Meh-hee-co

Billy had a 6-week break from school and so if you follow me on Instagram, you’ve noticed we’ve been trying to YOLO. Is that how you use it in a sentence? It’s been the fastest six weeks of my life, but some of the most memorable. One of the major highlights was going to visit Mexico City. Billy served an LDS mission there from 2005-2007 and he hadn’t been back (save for the 6-hour layover we took advantage of a few years ago). We’ve wanted to get out there for some time now, but we were never able to make the dates work.

So, we finally did it! And everyone kept asking us, "What are you doing here?". As we were going through customs in Mexico City, I asked the lady, “Where should we go while we’re here?” Without skipping a beat, she replied, “Cancun”. So, Mexico City or D.F. as the locals call it, is not a very touristy destination. D.F. is cray cray. There are SO many people packed in there. 21.2 million over 573 square miles, to be precise. NYC has 8.49 million over 469 square miles to give you an idea.

Now, I’ve visited Cabo quite frequently and Puerto Vallarta once, and they were completely different than the big city. For one thing, everyone in Cabo and Puerto Vallarta speaks at least a little bit of English so they can interact with the American tourists that come through. In D.F., the only people we met who spoke English were the American missionaries. And two of Billy’s friends from the mission—one knew quite a bit of English from his job and the other, just a little bit. This trip made me realize that I’ve really only been to places where they speak English—and I thought I was pretty well traveled (adding more trips to the list now).

My jokes are not very funny when Billy has to repeat them in Spanish—I discovered that my comedic strategy is all about timing, and if the timing is off, I just sound mean. But I did get a sense of how a new missionary must feel when they haven’t gotten the language down yet and their companion just does all the talking—it sucked. At first, I tried using the Spanish that Dora and Taco Bell has taught me. But then that got really frustrating because they would respond to me in Spanish that Dora and Taco Bell have not taught me and so then I’d say “no habla” and they would be like, why did I just hear you saying “yo quiero tacos”, then? So, I stuck to smiling and nodding and trying to follow along in Billy’s conversation. I think I was actually pretty good at following along just by picking out words. Whenever someone said “loca” (crazy), I knew the conversation had shifted to me, so I smiled.

I also learned that speaking the same language isn’t everything. It definitely makes things a lot easier, but I felt so loved by the people that we visited. They all scolded us for not staying the week with them, and they all wanted to feed us at least 2 meals. Our quick 2-hour home visits always turned into the whole day, but that’s what made it so wonderful. I just love the Mexican people. They are so hard working and so generous and family-oriented. They wouldn’t let us pay for anything! It makes me want to punch Donald Trump in the face. I wish we had had more time to visit everyone Billy wanted to see, but in order to do that, we would have had to stay for at least a month.

We went to dinner with this one family that he had baptized and Billy ordered a gringa—look them up, they are divine. And they were out of gringas, so he got some tacos instead. They were delicious and we were feeling super full and satisfied. But no matter how full we were, for the next hour, the mother of this family was driving around, on the prowl for somewhere that serves gringas so Billy can get one. Even though he was bursting over his jeans from tacos and kept protesting, she wouldn’t listen. Just the nicest people you can imagine.

We were with another family who had a little 6-year old boy. It went against my very nature that I couldn’t interact with him. He had no idea what I was saying to him. Billy was busy talking to the father the whole time so I couldn’t really use my interpreter. But you want to know what I discovered? If love is the universal language for adults, the Avengers are the universal language for 6-year olds. Before long, he was the Hulk and I was Iron Man with a little bit of Thor thrown in. He killed me maybe 100 times and thought it was the most hilarious thing when I would start snoring after I died (I’m pretty funny). He kept tapping Billy on the shoulder and telling him that he needed to help me with my Spanish. Cue the heart melting.

Another thing that was VERY different about this trip is that I was completely relaxed. Whenever we travel, I’m usually the planner. I make itineraries and budgets and take on all the stress, and then once everything works out I can finally relax and enjoy the trip. And Billy will say, “See? I told you it would all work out.” Oh, how I love/hate my go-with-the-flow husband. But because of the language barrier, Billy was in charge of it all. I was the laid-back half of our relationship, and I think I’ll start playing that role more often now. Billy got to somewhat experience how stressed I can get.  By some miracle (aptly named tropical storm Bill), we barely snuck on to our flight from Houston to Mexico City--the flight was oversold by 7, and we were 5 and 6 on the standby list. Houston, we DON’T have a problem! (I hate that I just said that). We made it with only the clothes on our back and our bag was left in America. Hashtag shopping spree.

I drink a lot of water throughout the day. Probably close to 70 oz. And then 40 oz of Diet Coke on top of that. So, we spent the majority of our time trying to find me a public restroom. I think we ended up spending 250 pesos (16 USD) on my bathroom endeavors. And that's only for going #1. Add up all the tortas, gringas, carnitas, liquados,tacos, mangoes (all of which has spicy ass salsa on it, even the mangoes) that we ate and you'll see what a problem bathrooms ended up being.

Oh, I almost forgot! I had my first panic attack on the Metro. So, that was fun. As Billy describes it, during rush hour, they pack so many people into the Metro that you can lift up your feet and you’ll still be held up. I didn’t even know I was claustrophobic until I was backed against a wall with no air flow and the whole population of Mexico City crammed into one car. In order to find oxygen, I had to lift my mouth up towards the ceiling. And then that stopped working for a while and my heart was pounding and I started bawling because I couldn’t breathe. And crying doesn’t exactly help with the not being able to breathe part.

Did I mention that the subway cars are separated by men and women so that the men don’t fondle the women? We weren’t aware of this fun little policy, and so we were in the all-men car. So, here are all these Mexicans just going home from work with this stupid, hysterical American girl. Somehow, without any air, I manage to gasp to Billy that I need to get off at the next stop. We get off and find the exit, but then the exit feeds right into this “mercado” or market. The market is essentially just a huge tent with all these little shops. Think Costco on a Saturday afternoon. Times 100. We spend the next 20 minutes trying to find the exit to the damn street. I swear, either every shop was selling shoes, or else we were going in circles. Probably a little bit of both. Oh, and I’m still crying at this point, because all I want is to have some fresh air (as fresh as Mexico City gets). We finally make our way out to the street and I almost collapse with relief. We try to get a taxi, but none of them will pick us up, and this is when I start envisioning being beheaded on CNN. I know that Mexicans don’t do that, but I wasn’t thinking rationally.

We finally walk down a few more blocks and a guardian angel named Jorge picked us up in a taxi. I was so relieved that I didn’t even mind the strange looks he shot me as I covered my ears, curled up in a ball, and started rocking back and forth. We looked up the area we were in once we got back to the hotel and discovered that we were in Merced—well known for its prostitution of young girls. Which explains the lecherous smiles and catcalls I kept receiving. Not that I’m that young, but…I round down. We told that story to this family the next day and they could not believe we stopped in Merced. We couldn’t have picked a worse spot. My bad!

We got to go to the pyramids at Teotihuacán. It was the one place I demanded we had to go. I was hooked on all the Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites books when I was a kid (so much so, that I decided on becoming an archaeologist. I guess there’s still time, right?). So, I dreamt of going to Teotihuacán ever since I read about Jim and Garth being chased around the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon.  And it was pretty breathtaking. Ancient civilizations are so fascinating to me, I just wish I was in the Matrix and could download all the information there is to know about them into my brain. Billy calls me Trinity, but only because he wishes he was Neo. I don’t think people realize what nerds we are. We also made sure to get a picture of Billy sacrificing me on the Pyramid of the Sun. It didn’t work though—probably cause I’m not a virgin.

We also got to visit the Mexico City temple, and were feeling pretty bummed out that Billy's recommend is expired. But luckily, it was closed for re-dedication anyway! So, we struck around the visitor's center for way too long so I could speak English to all the American missionaries. I just love English. And I learned that Mexicans call Joseph Smith, José Smith. Isn't that the greatest thing you've ever heard? I don't know why, but it killed me. I still can't stop thinking about it.

All in all, it was a successful trip, and I'm already trying to figure out when we can go back.

On top of the Torre Latino. It's a great view of the massive city, and gives you an idea of how bad the pollution is.

Visiting Franc and Ian (my Avenger's buddy). Franc is from Iztapalapa, one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the world. So, he is literally a bad ass.

Our romantic boat ride in Xochimilco on the Pamela. Mariachi band sold separately.

On the boat ride, they told us that these baby dolls come to life at night. Whatever you do, don't mess with Mexican witchcraft.

Not a selfie stick

Visiting Martha

Martha and her family

With the Iniestras in their beautiful home.

Billy has a way with pretty women.

Bellas Artes

The Mexico City LDS Temple

Doing his temple gang sign.

No selfie sticks at the Anthropology museum. Disneyland is soooo behind the times.

Haven't you always wanted to see me in my museum garb?

Great proportion. I approve.

Billy is the biggest dork of a photographer there ever was. Always making me do crap like this.

The actual Mayan calendar.

X-Men.

Pyramid FAIL

The Pyramid of the Moon

The Pyramid of the Sun

The Moon again

Billy and Cesar on top of the Pyramid of the Sun

The gods rejected our sacrifice for some reason. No one thought we were funny.

We conquered those stairs. There was a 13-year old boy close to the top that wouldn't come away from the wall and he was screaming because he was too high up and didn't want to go by the ledge (which was 10 feet away). We couldn't stop laughing. We'll make great parents.

With Cesar, his parents, and little Naomi who is pretty much just Dora.

Cesar was dying from carrying Naomi all day, so Billy offered to carry her. This guy makes me swoon.

Arcos (that's arches in Spanish). You're welcome.

I felt like we were in Scotland. Can you believe this is in Mexico?

Naomi/Dora after we introduced her to Baby Bottle Pops. Did you know that Dora teaches children English in Mexico? Mind blown.

We spent Father's Day at the Iniestras. They introduced me to Chicharrón (pig skin) which is surprisingly delicious and salty.

Billy and Juan

The universal sign for "I'm gonna pee my pants/skirt"

I would always flush my toilet paper without thinking about it, and then remember that they want you to throw it away. Or just put it in a pile next to the toilet. So, you can blame Mexico's plumbing problems on people like me. Also, this is the nicest toilet I used all trip.